


Over the phone

by A_French_Ship



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Confinement, Established Relationship, James is on Mission, Just a ficlet because i'm drowning under assignments and the weight of my procrastination, M/M, MI6, Q is working, Quarantine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23562493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_French_Ship/pseuds/A_French_Ship
Summary: James is away on a mission in Siberia, Q is quarantined in MI6 and his cynical sense of rationality cannot take it.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 2
Kudos: 68





	Over the phone

Quarantine, as expected, did not stand for MI6 agents. Nor for MI6 quartermaster, for that matters. There was something reassuring in knowing that civilians were mostly at home, since it prevented Q from taking into account the possibility of their hurting anyone that was not related to the mission at hand. Yet it made their actions even harder to hide from the public eye now that the usual chaos of the city - or wherever their missions called for them to be – did not conceal their interventions. Things went smoothly though.

Workers were scrupulously checked by the medical staff, especially agents coming right from the field. At first, MI6 had been vigilant of those who came back from areas which were infected by the virus, but now that every country in the world seemed to be quarantining their citizens, there was much left to do for MI6 but to check every single one of their workers.

Daily.

Then twice a day.

If not more. 

Gloved hands holding a forehead thermometre that emitted the most annoying bip sound and left the nurses frowning but mostly silent. 

And thus several times a day, without warning. With every single one of his minions, but Q could tell the medical staff took extra care with him, sometimes pushing the thermometre button twice in a row _just to be sure_ , although they pretexted clumsiness.

Q had tried to predict their comings and goings, checking his watch every time they crossed the threshold, unasked, unintroduced and unwanted. But they did not seem to follow a specific pattern. He accused Mallory of trying to drive him crazy with uncalculated added data to his day. A quartermaster simply does not need to be interrupted in the middle of guiding an 00-agent out of a fascist’s lair in the middle of nowhere. Especially when he was alright – tired, yes, yes, but usual tired. He had tried to protest a couple of times, waving the thermometre away from his temple, groaning something to the nurse who looked already out-of-place and way too aware of it. But he could tell from the dirty look the doctor in charge had thrown him, that his apparent irritability had been registered.

What Q felt the most irritable about that day was the absence of Bond. Bond at work, James at home – he even forced himself to think this way when his thoughts drifted to more domestic matters in the middle of his working day. Bond, then, had left a week ago for Omsk and apart from his last report to M the previous morning, Q had not heard about him. When in missions, private conversations out of the office were strictly forbidden between them, like they were forbidden between any agents and their family for any reason, disposable phones or not, so Q had spent the last night trying to find ways of contacting his lover, imagining programs to conceal his activity from the eyes of the best hackers of the planet. It had helped him falling asleep.

But it was 4PM and James was still silent. His mission in Omsk not perilous enough for him to be in constant contact with his quartermaster.

Q secretly checked on his radar position every now and then. He wanted to hear his voice and mostly to tell him about how annoying doctors were at MI6, how he was driven home by chauffeurs wearing masks and how all of it seemed unnecessary since he was always in a state of containment anyway – either at home or at work, always standing ten feet away from his colleagues anyway, never moving away from behind his computers, never walking down the street for some sunlight at lunch break.

It was 6PM when a few of his minions started to pack their things to go back home, leaving Q breathing more freely now that he knew he was not under constant surveillance by his own seconds in command. R lingered for quite a bit, working on a prototype whose elaboration Q had let her take in charge, the toy not sophisticated enough to excite him much longer.

When she left at 7.15, Q leaned back in his seat and looked at his keyboard with conniving eyes. He had contemplated the idea the whole day and a few pressure on a couple of buttons connected him immediately with Bond.

“Q?” came his voice, slightly rough with sleep. Q checked his watch and grimaced to himself. It was past midnight in Omsk.

“Already asleep?” he teased, rotating his desk chair from one side to the other. “Short day.”

Bond chuckled, moving in his sheets and probably switching the nightstand lamp on. Q heard the rustling of cotton sheets and the bed cracking lightly under his weight. Now Q could tell from his acute perception of his breathing and the warmth in his voice that James had pressed the phone closer to his ear.

“What about _your_ day?” he asked in return, not minding about being woken up anymore.

Q sighed in frustration. “Did you check your temperature? Did you wash your hands?” _Do you feel a pressure in your chest?_

Once again Bond chuckled, amused by his lover’s annoyance, for in spite of his perfect following of orders from above, his rock solid punctuality and the immense personal sacrifices he had done to protect Queen and country, Q loathed the sheep-like rigidity the MI6 forced him to accept. As a former hacker, his free-will had always been his one and only rule and there were many a thing he could not comprehend but had to deal with every day.

“I’m fine,” James replied, his voice soft as not to irritate him any more. He knew better than to give grist to the mill. In no time Q would be brandishing long words and tedious concepts, calling M an autocrat and the Queen a sycophant. “Are you?”

Q relaxed more in his leather seat, an attitude James would have liked to see him adopt. “Just tired. Doctors here, James, are impossible. Well-intentioned but impossible. They check on me every three hours at least and they could disturb my missions!”

There was a sense of appropriation in that _my_ that made James smile even more fondly over the phone. “But do they actually disturb your missions?”

“No, b-“

“Then it’s fine, isn’t it?”

Q was about to protest again but he stopped, displeased with having been interrupted and proven wrong at the same time. James could not understand the stress he was going through every day. James understood adrenaline – and Q felt adrenaline quite regularly too – but not stress. Every time they were home together, he would tell Q to “relax”, which drove the younger man out of himself. James had a plethora of ways of saying it that made things all the more annoying. 

“How’s your mission doing?” he asked instead of _not relaxing_.

“I thought you’re calling me to talk, not to talk about the mission!” James feigned shock and disappointment.

Q smiled. Slowly he took his glasses off and rubbed his aching eyes with two of his fingers, the earpiece maintaining contact without him having to hold a phone against his ear – how mundane!

“I was calling you just for that,” he whispered, cracking the articulations of his fingers before setting his glasses back on. “Everybody’s gone. There’s only me and…” _I wish I could sleep at my desk so you could talk me to sleep._ “I’m just checking some radar…” His voice broke on the last syllables and Q could tell James understood he was half-lying. Time seemed to slow down and for the first time in ages did Q allow himself to lay back and let England on the side for a few minutes. James’s voice had this power.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope it kept you busy for five minutes!   
> Kudos and comments are welcomed as always! Check my other fics!   
> Take care!


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